Fighting for Freedom
by ThatConverseGirl
Summary: General Keziah Cabot was an ally of the British after entering into the Army at the age of sixteen. No one knows how she got in the army, but as soon as she started fighting, she was feared. Then, one day in Philadelphia, the feared British general sat, shackled, next to none other than Ichabod Crane and Connor Kenway. Will she help Crane through the hardest time of his life?
1. Chapter 1

_July 1775_

_"Thank you all," George Washington_ _finished _as I looked over at Ichabod Crane, the British turncoat, beside me.

"You should've stayed home, Miss Cabot," he whispered in my ear, his grip on my forearm tightening as I struggled to get away from him.

I yanked at my shackles, glaring at the man. "Traitor."

"Crane." Washington stated as the Continental Congress came to a close. "Why bring this girl here?"

I spat a mixture of spittle and blood at the Commander's feet, my face bloody from when I'd fought back against the Bluecoats coming to capture me.

"That is why," Crane sighed. "This _girl_, as you called her, is the most dangerous foe we have to face. She is a informant to King George herself and is the highest official in the British Army and Navy. Odd for a girl who just enrolled."

Washington barely had time to process his words before the man was pulled away by Sam Adams and his companion. The brown eyes of the hooded, white-clad man met my own hazel, and I glared at him as I blew bloody blonde bangs out of my face.

We locked gazes for a moment, our minds thinking each other the enemy. _Assassin,_ I thought, just as I knew he was thinking, _Templar. _

I turned to the brunette Crane, who had started hauling me to my feet. "Why did you insist on bringing me here, Crane?"

His gray eyes met mine and he said, "To make you understand what you are trying to destroy," before tugging me along with him and onto the streets of Philadelphia. He earned odd looks as my bloody, bare feet and obvious captivity reached the eyes of the innocent, the dried blood being washed away in the pouring rain, which not only felt soothing but cold all at the same moment.

The brick streets were rough under my feet, and the clop of hooves made me wish I could mount a horse and flee. But I was hobbled, and I had no way of running.

Ichabod's black coat seemed to ward off the cold, wet rain, though his hair was just as soaked as mine, and he was the unlucky one who had it all in a ponytail at the base of his skull, causing all that water to drip down his back. As the brick streets gave way to dirt roads, then simply paths, and deeper into the woods we marched, the pine needles causing my feet to bleed once more.

He threw me to the ground, and I landed in the mud, cold, tired, and barely able to keep myself from shivering. I thought it was only sheer determination that kept me from quaking in my boots- or lack thereof.

He started unshackling me, kneeling at my feet as thunder rumbled above us from the dark gray clouds. I cast my eyes skyward. "It's best we get shelter soon."

"For you, yes," he said, finished unchaining my ankles. Before I could even attempt at running, he grabbed my ankles, looked me in the eye, and said, "There is a fort two miles to the north, allied with the British. You will go there, and I expect a report every fourth day containing movements of the army, supply amounts, and numbers. If you do not comply, I will have Connor hunt you down like the animal you are and behead you."

The way he said that made me not want to cross him, even though the anger did drip from his eyes rather than his voice. It seemed as if he didn't _want_ to hurt me. He wanted the information I had access to.

I didn't know which was worse.

So I simply started at him, praying that the facts that I was cold, scared, and weak betray me. No where in what little training I had did this situation come into play. There were no codes, no rules, no ideals that I could fall back on. _There was nothing to help me._

"I trust you will comply, Miss Cabot," he said, unshackling my wrists.

"I d-don't really have a c-choice, do I?" I said, my teeth chattering together.

"Not if you wish to live," he said sadly. "March."

I hobbled to my feet, hesitantly walking forward. I heard his pistol being loaded, and adrenaline shot through me. My feet moved faster until I was running at a full sprint, leaping over logs and streams with such ease I forgot what it felt like not to have over a hundred pounds of equipment on me.

Ichabod swore, chasing after me, his footfalls heavy on the forest floor. "Miss Cabot!"

I darted behind a tree, watching him thunder off before skidding to a halt, charging after me.

I couldn't move fast enough to keep him from capturing me, but at least I stopped him from running into me.

He grabbed my wrist, yanking me to him and grabbed me by the throat, pinning me to the tree. "I am growing tired of your constant foolishness, Miss Cabot," he said, growling.

"You can't hold me captive! You have no right," I choked out, managing to kick him away and breathe. Slowly, I realized, it wasn't the adrenaline from the chase that made my heart race; no, it was the intimidation and fear of the man standing a head-and-a-half taller than me, clearly willing to use force to make me do what he wants me to.

"Miss Cabot," he sighed, the fight clearly draining out of him. "You are the enemy and over the marrying age of eighteen."

I looked at the ground.

"You are not, are you?" he chuckled.

Slowly, I shook my head. "I'm sixteen."

"Miss Cabot!" he laughed, clapping me on the shoulder.

I fixed him a strange look. "What?"

"I thought you were _forced_ into the Army," he laughed, his eyes twinkling.

"None can force General Keziah Cabot into service," I hissed, offended. "She makes choices of her own accord."

"I will escort you into the camp," Crane stated, now somber. He lead me onwards, and the walk was silent until we reached the gates.

"Who walks the path of the true?" A sentry called.

"That of the honest among liars," I stated, halting forty feet away.

"And how does the honest bring with her?"

"I am Lieutenant Ichabod Crane," Crane stated before I could cut him off.

"Crane you idiot," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

The gates boomed open and I dropped to my knees, hands by my head. "Do it." I hissed at him. "They'll arrest you or worse."

He shot me a look. "Why on earth-"

And then shots rang out.

I sprang to my feet, running into the woods, tugging Crane with me.

"Miss Cabot!" He protested as I drew the sword at his left hip.

I bore it in my left hand, saying, "Run!"

"I think not."

"Crane!" I snarled, whirling to face him as the icy rain turned to snow. _It's snowing in July?_ I questioned.

"Why?"

"Must you question everything?" I hissed. "Now _go!_"

Hesitantly, he shot one last, hopeless look at me, and fled.

Seconds later guards filled the wooded area where he had been, and I had turned to watch him go. One gently grabbed me, apologetically glacing over my body. "General, are you hurt?"

"Not any more than I have been in the past. Let's get out of this insane weather, shall we?"

He nodded, and they made a protective line around me. "And march!" I barked, and the drummer did his job.

My feet fell into step with the beat of the rolling drum, and I forgot the chaos of life. Just order remained.

_If I only knew what I was about to enter..._

_1781, SLEEPY HOLLOW, NEW YORK_

_"General," Crane greeted me.  
_

"Crane." I responded, my black cloak over my bright red British uniform.

"Good to see you're still honoring our agreement." He stated.

I shot him a glare. It wasn't a good idea to bring up my recent doubts about this trade of information. "The Hessians will come in waves. Be wary of the one branded with a bow."

"He is _here_?" Crane demanded, his black coat covering his blue shirt.

"Afraid so," I said, looking around. "I am glad this war is almost over."

"I pray it is not." A new voice said.

I spun to face Connor, my old _friend._

"Connor. I was only hoping to see you on the battlefield."

"As was I."

Crane gulped, clearly seeing the tensions rise and the two of us stepped closer, narrowing our eyes.

"I still haven't forgiven you, you know," I said. "Father was my world. All he wanted was the truth in the world."

"He tried to kill me!" Connor growled. "I wanted to kill him as much as you did, Keziah, and therefore I must say your accusations are invalid."

"Stop acting like the king, Connor," I hissed, getting in his face. "You may have been his heir but I was his favorite."

"Miss Cabot," Ichabod coughed.

"One moment, Ichabod," I said, then hissed at Connor. "I will see you on the battlefield, _Assassin._ If we both live, it will be a miracle."

I walked away, Connor's brown eyes smoldering in anger. I stripped off my cloak, tossing it in the bushes.

"General Cabot," my lieutenant said, "Orders are to strike at dawn."

"Follow through," I stated as we walked into the camp.

She nodded, and ran off into the camp to spread the word.


	2. Chapter 2

_The chaos that ensued was, well,_ chaotic. I led my men down the battlefield, even as the field gave way to forestry. Connor watched, stunned, as I passed by, cutting down several Hessians as i galloped by, a small flicker of respect flashed between the two of us, and it passed as soon as it came.

That second I stepped upon the ground is the moment I watched Crane's chest get sliced open by the very same Hessian I'd warned him about.

"No!" I shouted, and in a faint, somewhat distant moment, I knew I lost a brother. A brother I had hated throughout everything I had been put through, but somehow, I still returned to him. Maybe it was that sense of safety that every girl got around him, like he was one giant, cuddly teddy bear that everyone misunderstood. Katrina, his wife, had it good. He was head over heels for her and the way he'd talk about her made me happy for the two of them.

_Katrina._

Suddenly, the moment froze completely, and I saw Crane's blade- the twin of the one I bore myself- halfway through the Hessian's neck.

I glanced around, finding myself able to move. Was this one of Katrina's many misspells?

_I am not a spell,_ a deep, rumbling voice said, and I couldn't determine where it came from.

I raised an eyebrow. _The bloody hell?_

_I am the lord of the dead,_ the voice said, and I pinpointed the location of the voice.

_It was coming from the Hessian._

My mind scrambled, quickly organizing everything I knew about anything relevant as I asked, "Do explain?"

_I am the being who can save your brother-in-arms. Only make a deal with me._

I've heard of people selling their soul to the devil. Now? Well, I never believed in faith, but I knew something even Death didn't know. "Not today, kid. Get lost."

And everything was set back in motion. Crane's arm finished swinging, and I raced towards him as he collapsed on the ground.

I hauled him into my arms, praying to whatever God existed and ran.

Crane was no heavier than any of the supplies I'd carried the past few years. My determination to get him to the camp, even though I knew if I went back to the battle I'd be killed, was far more powerful than any force.

My feet were light and quick on the forest floor, the sounds of dying men growing fainter and the business of the field hospital louder. My heart raced, my head swam, and my chest burned from lack of air, but still, I kept running. I prayed Katrina knew I was coming, so she could meet me. I tore off my red tunic, leaving me in a white tunic underneath, my tricorn had on my head, and my hair neatly tucked underneath.

My prayers were answered. Katrina was waiting for me, and when she saw me coming, the scared look on my face, and the hopelessness in my eyes, she knew what I knew.

The end had come.

"Is he...?" She asked, her voice small.

"Not yet. He can still be saved." I said, breathless.

"Then hurry."

I raced inside, placing him on the nearest bed like he had me years ago, when he repaid his debt to me. Now, if he lived, he _seriously_ had to make it up to me.

Katrina and I set to work, not bothering with the doctor or reverend, even though we both knew the outcome and what had to happen. My hazel eyes met her green, and I gave her my hands as she started chanting in Greek.

"And now we pray," she said, brushed red hair out of her eyes.

"Prayer never really worked for me until today," I mused, wincing as I was yanked by the head to the courtyard of the hospital.

I was bound on my knees, my ankles and wrists bound together with rope. "Who are you?" A guard snapped.

"She's an ally," A new voice said, and Commander Washington came into view. "Release her."

"But she is-"

"I said release her." Washington snapped, and the ropes binding me were cut.

I relaxed. "Thank you, Sir."

"Do not thank me, General," he said. "I have you to thank for bringing Crane back to me."

"If he had lived." I muttered as the sounds of Katrina's wailing filled my ears. "I didn't like Crane, not one bit, but the respect I had for him made me save him today. And I owed him, big time."

"How do you know he is dead?"

"Are you deaf? Can you not hear the wailing of Katrina and the prayers of the reverend? Can you not feel his presence beside you, like I can? Has your service under Edward Braddock slipped from your mind?"

My sharp tone obviously cut deep, as he winced, lowering his eyes. "My service in the French and Indian War was to help America, nothing more, nothing less. I want my men to lead a healthy lifestyle-"

I rose angrily to my feet. "You call _this_ healthy?" I snapped, my arms flailing towards the sound of the battle in the distance. "You call this even a _lifestyle? _I wonder if you're even human, Mister Washington."

The Patriot soldiers gathered around me, and then a shot was fired.

The musket ball grazed my arm, the sudden, sharp pain not something that was expected on my part. My white tunic blossomed with red at the sleeve, showing the fact that the ball had nicked an artery.

I growled in anger, preparing to charge them with the twin sword of Ichabod's at my waist.

"Enough! Keziah, it is time," Katrina said, barging into the circle.

"Katrina," a man said, and she cut him off with a sharp green glare.

She turned to me, her hair loose from its bonnet and white, dirty dress replaced with a black, tidy one. "Now, Keziah Kenway."

I winced. She only used my father's last name because when I came to the Colonies, I took my mother's last name so the enemies of my father couldn't find me. Katrina, other than Crane, was the only person that knew.

My feet fell in step with Katrina's and I felt a sense of peace wash over me. I was going to actually help someone, not destroy and claim.

My jaw set as I looked on in determination. Katrina hadn't really told me what I was to accomplish if and when Ichabod woke from the dead.

I wondered if my own ways had gotten in the way of my life. I mean, my father was dead; without him, the Order fell apart. Charles is doing his best, but in reality, he wasn't my father. And my father had ideals that Charles didn't.

This I had grown used to as a child. I had no idea who my mother was, only that she was French. My father used to tell me that I had her beauty and her charms, and even that his sister Jenny would've been jealous back in the day. That made me cringe; from what I've seen of Aunt Jenny, she wasn't the type to get jealous and let the other person live. She also wasn't that fond of Father, either, because when I'd see the two of them talking when I was little Jenny would always flash him an evil glare if he ever brought up the Order. I skied her about it once.

"Aunt Jenny," I'd said, as quietly as possible. Father had thought me that children were to be seen, not heard, and that if we had guests over I was to stay away, unless it were Aunt Jenny or Charles.

Aunt Jenny turned to me, her gray, flinty eyes like stone until she saw me. "Keziah," she'd cooed. "What's on your mind, child?"

"Every time Father brought up Charles or any of his friends from work, you always get mad at him. Why?"

She laughed, scooped me up into her thin arms, sat down at the table, and set me in her lap. "You see, Keziah, your grandfather was grooming your father for a diffeorder company, but before he could be trained for it, he was captured." The way she said 'captured' made me shudder.

"Did Father find him, like he did you?" I asked, hazel eyes wide.

Jenny's eyes turned stony. "That day is the day that Haytham turned into what Father was trying to prevent. I can't say I blame him, though. He was only ten."

"Father started working for Mister Birch?" I piped, smiling happily. "Father has told me many great stories about Mister Birch, and how he taught Father almost everything he knows! Father even taught me some French," I squealed happily, and she smiled.

"Yeah, Keziah, I bet he else did your father tell you?"

I hopped off her knee, grabbing my wooden sword from the cabinet. I jabbed in the air, mocking a fight. "Father told me how he had fought off the attackers in his home when he was young, and all the stories of the questions he asked you and you never answered until later." I kept jabbing, and my face dimmed. "He told me that the world was full of bad, scary people, and that I had to defend myself from them."

Jenny smiled, her dark, gray-streaked hair in a bun. "Yes, Keziah, yes you do."

Katrina's fingers snapped under my nose, bringing me back to reality. I flushed, and said, "I'm sorry. I was thinking about my father."

Katrina nodded, and she grabbed my hands. "Are you sure about this?"

"As sure as I need to protect Crane," I said,which was entirely false. Crane could defend himself just fine.

She nodded, and started chanting.

A black, swirling mass opened beside me. She let go of my hands and said, "Go, and may the gods watch over you."

"May Fortuna look kindly upon you, Katrina, daughter of Hecate," I said, and stepped into oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

_That black, swirling mass of energy_ turned out to be the portal into the world where Crane would rise, and when I came to, I was standing over a basin, a mirror over it.

I inspected Katrina's handiwork. The whole point of changing my features was that the horseman wouldn't recognize me.

My blonde hair was darker, more curly, and it was tied back with a black handkerchief. My eyes were greener, my skin tanner, and my eyes were lined with kohl, making my freckled skin stand out.

I wore a white shirt, a light blue jumper, and dark blue canvas pants with my skin-tight knee-high combat boots. They'd never left my side and I was glad to see that Katrina made them newer, not as worn.

I smiled, admiring my new self, and then a sharp knock at the door came.

I pretended to be braiding my hair as I opened the door, my hazel-green eyes welcoming of the woman who stood in front of me.

Her black hair was cut in layers, one at her jaw, another at her collarbone, and the third at her shoulders. Her brown eyes were lost, as if she had just lost someone important. "Lieutenant Abbie Mills, Sleepy Hollow Police Department. You Keziah Cabot?"

"Yes," I said, tying the braid off with a jade ring.

"You know a man named Ichabod Crane?"

"I am not happy about it," I grumbled. "What did the idiot do this time?"

"He is a suspect in a murder case. He states that you can provide his alibi. Come downtown with me, please."

I nodded, knowing that the second I moved from this motel room I was fresh meat for the horseman. My booted foot touched the rough concrete, and the knowledge of all that happened in America since 1781 filled my head.

I attempted to keep my balance as I stumbled, barely able to keep up with the surge of knowledge.

Instead of recovering, I fell on my face as I fell, growling with irritation.

"You alright Miz Cabot?" Lieutenant Mills asked as I sat back on my haunches, brushing gravel from my face.

"Perfect. I'm far from graceful." I lied through my teeth.

I hauled myself up and into the car, opening the door myself and climbing in with more caution.

Mills climbed in the driver's seat, started the car, and drove downtown.

I stared out the window as she asked, "So how do you know Crane?"

"We served together in the Army," I said, almost not paying attention.

"Wait, he says he served under Washington. Is that true?"

"Can we _please_ not talk about that man? I do not care much for traitors." I growled under my breath.

Mills shot a glance at me. "But I thought you served together?"

"Ichabod Crane captured me in 1775 in Philadelphia in an attempt for me to support the cause like my father and half-brother," I hissed. "I was a new general at the time and I didn't recognize what kind of tyranny I had involved myself in. However, in '81, my half-brother Connor killed my father. It was shortly before Crane's... death, for lack of a better word." I hissed. "However, I only supplied him what he needed and that was all. I probably caused England to lose the war."

"You were a _Redcoat?_" She hissed in surprised.

"Just as much as I am a Knight," I said. "Wait, you call them _Freemasons_ now, correct?"

"What are you saying?"

"I was a Knight of the Templar Order, like my father. Crane, like your founding fathers, is a Freemason. Technically, he is my brother-in-arms, but I only protected him for that reason. Had anyone found out about my tyranny I would have been executed, and everything would be ruined."

The police station came up, and I opened the door as we came to a halt.

As we entered the interroation area, I could hear Crane's protests at his capture. "Now, I have questions, several _thousand_ questions, but I will spare you the torment of being strapped to a damn chair," I heard him hiss.

"Crane," I snarled, opening the door.

"Miss Cabot?" He questioned, and the officer said, "Hey, you can't be in here!"

"Watch me," I snarled at him, then turned back to Crane. "How much have you told them?"

"Everything that I know," Crane snarled at me. "Now _where am I?_"

"You said you served under Washington," the officer said, and produced something from his pocketbook.

"Yes," Crane said, confused.

"Well, the good news is you won the war," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"The bad news is, is that it's two-hundred-and-fifty hears later," the officer finished.

The look of defeat that crossed his face was hardly a slight one. I shooed the officers out of the room, and I sat down next to Ichabod after they were done detaching the wires.

"Miss Cabot," he said softly, and I heard the brokenness in his voice. "How long have you been here?"

"In 2013? About thirty minutes. I adjusted fast," I said, grasping his hand.

"What am I here for?" He asked.

I looked away, ashamed. "I can't tell you. It's not my place."

"You know how and why I got here?" he asked, angered.

"Crane if I could tell you I would," I hissed. "I belong to more than just the Templars and the British Army."

"Why can't you tell me?" He hissed.

"I was sworn to an oath!" I shouted, my voice rising with his.

"No oath can withhold information from the desperate!" He yelled right back.

"This one _can!_" I snarled, my voice dropping in decibels and octaves.

He stood up, his coat buttoned up. "Tell me what oath you took!"

"Oh, you want to play the interrogation game?" I hissed, rising and leaning on the steel table. "I can do that, just as well as you can!"

"Stop playing games with me," he snarled, his face inches from mine.

"Maybe you should've thought of that when you screamed at me," I hissed under my breath.

"_I_ screamed at _you_?" he questioned. "That's not how I remember it!"

I pulled away, turning towards the one-way mirror and pinching my nose. "Enough."

"I am not done with you," Crane hissed from the other side of the table.

"Oh, yes you are," Mills said, standing between the two of us. "Crane, you're coming with me."

"I go where he goes, unfortunately," I said. "Kinda why I'm here."

"Fine," she hissed. "See this gun? I'm authorized to use it- on _you._"

I realized she was speaking to Crane and clasped my hands behind my back, watching as the two left the room. I left as well, about two paces behind. The hardwood floors reminded me of my old house in Massachusetts, in Metonomy. I never was welcome there as a Redcoat, but I wasn't around that often for them to worry. My boots clashed with the light wood and my jeans seemed to fit with the boots.

I shook my head from fashion as I heard Abbie's name being called. "Captain?" She asked.

"Where are you taking the girl?" the dark-skinned man said.

"She refuses to leave his side," she explained.

"It isn't a 'refuse' situation, sir," I said, sliding in front of the lieutenant. "It is a matter of _must._ I am here to protect Crane from whatever may come."

"What do you mean, 'whatever may come'?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly what I said," I said, crossing my arms.

He rolled his eyes. "I've had enough of this crazy fest. Take her with you, and make sure you fulfill her request," He said to Mills, who glared at his back, and tugged me and Crane along into her car.


	4. Chapter 4

The car ride to wherever we were going - I wasn't really listening to the conversation between Crane and Lieutenant Mills - was consisting of the two arguing over something and me looking out the window. Ghostly shapes scattered across my vision, in the shape of a battle.

_The Battle of Sleepy Hollow._

I sat up straighter, watching them with confusion. Me seeing ghosts wasn't anything new, but I usually only saw one or two at a time. For them to appear in such a manner... Something was wrong.

"Crane, look for anything abnormal." I said, half-distracted.

"Everything is abnormal," he hissed at me.

I glared at the back of his head, my left eye twitching. "Anyone you recognize?"

As we drove past the church, I turned my attention out of the window. The reverend gaped at Crane as we drove past, and I saw the panic cross his face. I waved through the window at him, and then gave the hand signal. I crossed my index fingers in the form of a cross, and he nodded, taking off.

"Was that...?" Crane muttered, probably not even realizing that he said it aloud.

"Yes," I answered. "It was him."

"He was at my bedside in the infirmary," Crane said. "How did I even get there?"

I refused to even glare at him.

"Miss Cabot? You sacrificed yourself to protect me?"

"I did what I did in the hopes that you would be saved and Katrina would not be widowed," I snapped. "She was like a sister to me."

"But far older than you were."

"Listen Crane," I hissed. "I was born on October Second, 1760, outside Manchester, England."

"And?" Mills asked, as if this was perfectly normal.

"I was getting to that," I hissed. "Anyway, did you know that Katrina never knew her mother?"

"Yes," Crane said.

"Neither did I. Ben Franklin didn't either, nor George Washington."

"You're saying?"

My eyes flashed over to Mills, then I said, "I'm saying there is far, _far _more to this than you originally thought, so much more."

Crane's gray eyes met mine and fixed him a haunted green gaze. "How much more?"

"I can't really say. Katrina and I didn't plan for most of this..." I muttered.

"Katrina knew about this?" Crane yelped.

I shrugged. "I warned you from the Hessian, Crane. That was all I could do. Toying with the gods' plan... I've done it before and almost lost my life, and therefore is not something I wish to repeat."

"Oh for God's sake, Miss Cabot, you cannot be serious," Crane laughed as the car came to a halt.

I opened the door, looking around the forest. "You'll see... In time."

"Enough," Abbie said, grumbling, "I can't believe I let you two be in the same car."

"Oh, it'll get worse," I crooned, prancing towards the direction Ichabod was headed.

The ghastly shapes became more defined the further we walked. I could hear the screams of agony, the shots of the muskets, and feel the pain.

Every time someone screamed, or shots were fired, I flinched as if someone had struck me.

"Ichabod," I croaked. "I can't stand this."

The man brushed leaves from a foxhole and slid in, followed by Mills. With one, last glance around the ghost battle, I slid in as well.

"Once this little field trip is over, I'm following orders," Mills warned.

I nodded and felt reprieve from the ghosts. "Crane, whatever hex was put on you in this cave, it blocks the pain."

"Aye," Crane said, "I feel it too."

"Pain? What pain?" Mills asked.

"Miss Cabot is a ghost whisperer," Crame explained. "She can feel, see, and hear everything that happened to that individual."

"Sounds like a curse," Mills said.

"It is, but I also inherited a trait from my father... It was started by Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, a Syrian Assassin and one of my ancestors. He is the first recorded individual to solidly have proof of this ability, dubbed 'Eagle Sense' by his peers..."

My voice trailed off as I slid into the said state, scanning the room. Ichabod was hilighted in purple, as usual, and Mills in blue. Items throughout the room glowed white, but a mark over on the wall was gold.

I hovered over to it, investigating it. The stone was grooved, as if a door was concealed there.

The Templar Cross was etched into it, and I called, "Crane."

"It speaks of two witnesses," I barely heard him say to Mills. The rest I could not hear.

"Crane!" I snapped, "I found something."

Crane looked up, and Abbie headed to my side. With a sigh, he followed her and said, "What is it?"

"This," I said, pushing at the Cross.

My hunch on a hidden door was right. It swung open on silent hinges, and in it lay a casket, what looked like a letter, and a desk. Upon that desk were two journals and a chest.

I took a step into the room, the dust swirling up in little clouds around my boots.

The casket wascarved with the Assassin symbol over a Templar Cross, making me gasp. I pulled the letter from the top of the casket, examining the wax seal, stamped with an eagle.

I broke it and unfolded the parchment. It read:

_My darling Keziah, _

_I'm afraid what might be my untimely death will cause you pain and anger. Do not hate Connor for doing the deed, if it is him who holds the blade that slays me. In this tomb, if Connor does do as the letter in the back of my journal asks, you will find this letter and my casket. In my casket, I believe you will find something of your mother's. _

_If Connor adds anything, let it be on the back of this letter or in my own journal. Know that I loved you two both equally and it pains me to think of having to face him. Know that Charles has the amulet, but Connor will find him. He was good at that. _

_And do not hate us for lying to you, Keziah, for we needed you to believe I was dead. Lying to you has always been difficult for me. You are my little girl, and always will be. _

_You father, _

_Haytham Kenway_

I could barely hide the tears that streamed from my eyes. Crane put his hand on m shoulder, and I realized as I looked at him, that I had read it aloud. Turning towards the casket, I shoved the lid off, and looked inside.

A silver necklace was around the neck of the skeleton in the casket. I reached inside and tugged the owl pendant from my father's neck.

The tarnished piece of metal was perfectly carved, and I stared at it, pooled in my hand. My tears landed on top of it, and my shoulders shook as I unsucessfully attempted to ward off crying.

Crane pulled me into his arms, trying to shush me.

I slowly recovered and pulled away,heading to the desk.

The journals, I realized, were Connor's and my father's. The leather would have to be oiled and the pages rewritten with how faded they were, but that I could manage. The key to the chest was on a leather cord in Connor's journal, and I opened the rough chest.

In it was a blank hardcover book, a quill and inkwell, and many, many maps, loose pages, articles, and a letter from Connor.

There was also a bear stomach bag, and I started piling the things in it, shoving everything into it.

"Miss Cabot?" Crane asked.

"Connor knew why I vanished," I breathed. "I need to know how."

"But you don't know what those maps and articles are for," Abbie said, running her flashlight over them.

I batted the light out of her hands, glaring at her. "That could damage the ink! I really should be wearing gloves..."

After everything was safely stowed away in the bag, she said, "Alright, field trip's over."

"What?" Crane asked. "After everything I just showed you? The war we have to stop?"

"I've had enough crazy in my life. I don't need any more." She said, and I sighed, picking the bag up carefully. "Come on, Ichabod. You and I can figure this out together."

He nodded and followed Abbie out of the cave.

I sighed, and prepared for all of Hell break loose.


End file.
